


Drunken Confessions

by decreasethesurpluspopulation



Series: Making A Change [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunken Confessions, M/M, No Smut, Silly Dean, Sweet Castiel, not quite though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decreasethesurpluspopulation/pseuds/decreasethesurpluspopulation
Summary: Two times Dean got drunk with Cas, once when Cas was too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this is really nothing. I promise. Just a peek into their relationship before and even more before.

Dean plops down next to Cas on the couch, practically in his lap, and Castiel holds his breath before letting it out slowly. He's has had just enough alcohol that he lets himself lean back into Dean, and he’s floaty and warm at the feeling of Dean so close. Dean’s side pressing against his own, radiating heat.  
Castiel decides in intoxicated state that he will soak up as much tender sweetness as he can from Dean, no matter how unhealthy it may be. He still glances toward the crowded kitchen, with all of their friends mere feet away. And he’s glad in the back of his muted brain that they can’t hear Dean when he says,  
“Hey, babe.”  
Castiel groans lowly, both loving and hating Dean’s tendency to use that word when he is drunk.  
But still, Castiel puts an arm around Dean’s shoulders casually, knowingly encouraging this more affectionate side, which he hardly sees unless Dean is as drunk as he is now.  
He puts his mouth to Dean’s ear, his lips brushing the skin, “Yes, Dean?”  
Dean shivers a bit, but otherwise doesn’t react or move away, so Castiel doesn’t either. “Do you think that the uh, multiple, the multiple word for douches is deeshes?”  
“Deeshes?” Castiel pulls back to look at his best friend with a confused chuckle that becomes an all out belly-laugh. “What? How much have you had?”  
Dean grins dopily at him, mumbling, “Nah, Cas, I’m fine, ‘m fine, fine. I was just thinking that goose is geese, so is douche deesh?”  
Castiel laughs again at his logic, sound as it is, and pushes Dean to lay down on the couch. “You stay here.” He whispers to him again, because he can’t find a good reason not to. “I’m going to get us some more to drink.”  
He goes to the kitchen, which he is surprised to find was now empty. He pours himself two more shots of tequila, because obviously being drunk with Dean is working out very well. When was the last time they got smashed together? Castiel can’t remember, so that must mean that they are due for a night.  
Castiel comes back with a shot in each hand, and giving the whiskey to Dean. “To…” he trails off, not able to think of anything.  
Dean looks him in the eye and clinks their glasses. “To friendship.” he says with a gorgeous easy smile and throws his back quickly.  
Castiel takes his as well, but suddenly feels very sad. It’s sitting cold in his chest and kind of ruining his buzz. But when Dean maneuvers himself to lay with his head in Castiel’s lap, Castiel lets the thought go, and pushes away the sadness the crept up on him for a second.  
There’s something in his head saying that he should maintain at least a semblance of a friendly distance, but Castiel doesn’t stop him and sit up. He doesn’t want to remind himself how much this was going to hurt later, when they go back to strictly platonic touches, though even those skirt the line.  
He leans back giving the earlier discussion his full consideration and allows himself the great luxury of playing with Dean’s short, soft hair. “I suppose the plural of douche would be douches, no?”  
Dean gives him a quiet beautiful laugh, his shoulders shaking Castiel and causing him to smile down too indulgently at him. “Douches, Cas? Ya think tha’s it?”  
Castiel nods with mock seriousness, “I think it’s a valid answer, at least.”  
Dean laughs again and turns to his side, facing away from Castiel now. “You’re probably be right, Cas, ‘cuz you’re so smart. Too smart for …”  
The rest of the sentence is mumbled into Castiel’s knee, his beautiful, soft lips, pressed for just a second into Castiel’s jeans. Castiel hates these jeans for irrational minute, they are so sturdy and unyielding and now he’s missed his only chance to feel Dean’s lips, even if it was only on his knee.  
And that cold, melancholy feeling is slowly seeping back into his lungs, softer, but no less potent.  
He finds himself saying, “Try to sleep, Dean. We can talk more about deeshes in the morning.” Because Castiel is also so so tired now. Maybe he drank too much and it’s hitting him all at once.  
Dean turns his head to meet his eyes with his own green bleary ones, “You always take such good care of me, Cas.”  
“Shush, now, Dean, “  
“No, nono, ‘m ser’us.” He sits up before Castiel can stop him, and turns to face him fully. “Cas, babe, you do s’much fer’m. An’ I don’,” there’s a small whimper, and then, “I don’ tell you ‘nough that you make me s’ happy, Cas. S’ happy. An’ I jus’ wanna make you happy, too, ya know?”  
For a moment, Castiel thinks that this whole exchange is totally unfair. This whole night, perhaps. He wants to join Dean in his drunken confession, knowing he would be able to say all the sweet thoughts that are marinating in this head and then not have to answer for them in the morning.  
Castiel fights to keep the elation and despair off his face, knowing that though these were the words he had longed to hear from Dean for years, they’ll be forgotten by morning. Probably forgotten by both of them. Because this was just Dean being incredibly charming, and kind, and everything that Castiel loves about him, but can never have because he doesn’t feel the same way that Castiel does. He doesn’t mean the words in the way that Castiel wants him to mean them.  
Castiel has just enough of a hold on himself to stop the words before he whispers those to Dean too.  
He only lets himself nod, and Dean seems to accept this as a reasonable response, and lays back down, snuggling closer to Castiel before falling asleep. 

******

"Cas, I got somethin' I hafta tell you."  
Castiel squeezes his hand as they walk down the hall to their apartment. "What's that, Dean?"  
Dean pulls on his arm to get Castiel to stop and slurs low and hot in his ear, “Cas, baby, I wan’ you to fuck me.”  
Castiel chuckles softly, “Right now?”  
Dean nods against Castiel’s neck, his hands slowly fumbling with the collar of his trench coat, “Yeah, Cas, need it. Need you.”  
Castiel groans at Dean’s insistent grinding, and grabs Dean’s hips to still them so he can think straight. His green eyes are made both softer and brighter with the alcohol buzzing through him and Castiel can’t help but kiss him softly. “Dean, we’re in the hallway, not even inside the apartment yet. I’m not doing anything out here.”  
“Trust me, Cas, it’ll be good.” Dean starts sucking a mark into Castiel’s newly exposed collarbones.  
“Of course it will, my silly man, but it’ll be even better in the apartment, in our room, on our bed.”  
At this, Dean pauses, a grin spreading slowly at his emphasis, “You’re so right, baby, let’s do that.”  
Castiel laughs affectionately at his boyfriend’s inebriated behavior and unlocks the door. He has the distant thought that he wishes he could be too, giggly and stumbling and uninhibited, but shakes it off before it grows.  
As soon he can open it, Dean barrels through the door, tugging Castiel with him.  
It smacks loudly against the wall, and the living room is flooded with light from the hall. Dean turns to Castiel, who had frozen at the sound. “Sshhhh… Cas, you hafta be quiet, Sammy’s sleepin’. ” Dean slurs seriously.  
Castiel shakes his head at him, laughing silently, but closes the door behind him with excruciating slowness. Dean gives him a nod of approval, and then Castiel grabs for his hand, “C’mon, Dean, we’ve got to go to bed.”  
Dean stops, pulling Castiel against him tightly, “Cas, no” he whines and tries to look stern, but the look is lost as it comes out more like a petulant pout.  
Castiel chuckles at him, and moves him closer to their door. “Dean, we need to sleep, so-”  
“No, no, Cas,” Dean stops them again. “I don’ wanna sleep, Cas, I wan’ you t’ fuck me.”  
Castiel almost laughs aloud again, but he catches it quickly, his chest constricting at the absolute adorableness and ridiculousness of this situation. “We need to go to our bed first.”  
Dean huffs, “Never stopped us b’fore.” He leads the way into the bedroom and lays himself out gracelessly. He begins tugging in vain at his own belt buckle, mumbling at it in frustration. Castiel sighs, loving him more and more with each clumsy fumble. Even in his drunkenness, Dean is so beautiful. Castiel knows that he would find Dean to be beautiful in any circumstance, sober or not.  
As he moves to the en suite bathroom, Castiel smiles, hearing Dean cursing struggling to get his clothes off. He brushes his teeth and dresses down to just his undershirt and boxes before going back out to their room.  
When Castiel returns, only to find a sleeping Dean tangled in his jeans, he’s not even a little surprised. He kisses Dean thighs as he removes his pants the rest of the way, and then works gently to coax Dean’s heavy limbs out his many shirts, giving him a kiss on each arm as each layer reveals more skin.  
Eventually, having ensured Dean will be comfortable in only his black boxer briefs, Castiel leaves a kiss on the softer, treasured part of Dean’s tummy and then crawls under the covers with him. Just as he falls to sleep, he feels a solid, heavy body snuggle into him, and a warm wet breath against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I just had this idea and wanted to play with it a little. I'll probably come back and edit the hell out of it, if not delete and rewrite it completely. Let me know what you think!


End file.
